


Doe

by moor



Series: Smut Monday [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Dark, Drama, F/M, Fantasy, Modern AU, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2018-09-07 04:18:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8782660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: Madara x Sakura. Modern fantasy AU. A hunter searches for his prey, prepared to do anything it took to add her to his treasures. Rated 'M' for sexual themes, warning for dub-con.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU. Smut Monday fic. Dub-con warning.

Refusing to look up from her phone, Sakura outwardly ignored the eyes burning into the back of her head.

"He's doing it again," she texted Sasuke.

Her phone buzzed once in her hand with his reply.

"Don't respond to him."

Her brow dipped in the middle.

"Easy for you to say. Where are you? You said you'd be here."

"Traffic. 5 minutes."

Sakura swallowed her huff as she read his last message. Yeah. He'd said that fifteen minutes ago, too.

_I am not sitting here and being stalked like some passive doe waiting for a wolf to attack her,_ she thought to herself, snapping closed the cover of her phone and sliding it into her purse. With a sweep of her charcoal silk dress to smooth out any wrinkles, Sakura stood from the rattan patio chair where she'd been waiting for Sasuke and straightened her shoulders. She knew she should have stayed home.

Alone on the balcony where she'd been avoiding the majority of the Uchiha until Sasuke arrived, she took a deep breath and lifted her chin. She enjoyed Mikoto and even Fugaku, but had never quite felt comfortable with the remaining members of Sasuke's clan. While Itachi's friend and cousin, Shisui, was a good sort, he wasn't in attendance that night or she may have approached him out of social desperation.

One Uchiha in particular stood out in her mind, and she wanted to avoid him at all costs.

Since her divorce from Sasuke the year before, things between Sakura and the rest of the Uchiha had been cordial. She was still invited to their family events, as was their daughter, Sarada, but this evening had been an adults-only celebration of some medical-facility-related public donation the clan had made, and would she mind attending and showing her support?

As recently promoted head of Konoha's largest, most prestigious hospital, Sakura had smiled and obliged, and put in her warmest thanks and then tried to avoid the rest of the evening. Truly, she enjoyed working with the Uchiha, and her separation from Sasuke hadn't been terribly bitter… that was just it. There hadn't been much to it, at all. She and her ex-husband kept in frequent contact and were both loving towards Sarada, and the Uchiha loved their daughter as one of their own. It was just that while she and Sasuke cared for each other, they weren't truly in love with each other. The passion they'd shared in their early years had dwindled, and neither made an effort for the other. It turned into a working household partnership, instead of a marriage. Even sex became functional rather than expressive.

As a free woman in her mid-thirties, Sakura knew she didn't want to 'settle' and live her life with a place holder. She also knew that while Sasuke would never cheat on her, he shouldn't feel duty bound, either. The separation was… lifeless.

Though Sakura could admit to herself that it was nice to be free, even if she did not fancy seeing anyone else.

Sarada had taken things in stride, once she understood that they would still share special holidays together, just not every single day. As Sasuke travelled often for work, she adapted quickly to the new routine.

It was said work—specifically, his plane being delayed upon arrival—that kept Sasuke from attending on time.

… leaving her open to that man's attentions.

She'd never spent more than a few minutes in his presence at a time, yet his dark, nearly crimson eyes had seared her with their focus. She remembered the way shivers had run between her shoulder blades, the way even when he wasn't speaking to her, he seemed to maintain an awareness of her location and state. His voice was low, direct, almost hypnotic, and she found herself enthralled with him when he'd addressed her directly, and forlorn when he shifted his attention away from her for but a moment to glare at someone else who'd dared interrupt them.

That glare had frozen Sakura's blood in her veins..

There was something primal in it, cold and territorial and possessive, and she'd only then realized that she'd unconsciously stepped closer to him.

The man who'd interrupted had been her husband, Sasuke.

… and she'd forgotten that fact until she saw him.

She'd immediately sworn to herself to avoid the man, Uchiha Madara, head of the Uchiha clan, for the rest of her life.

There was something dangerous about him, unearthly and vaguely immortal that she couldn't put her fingers on.

When news of her divorce from Sasuke became public, she had worried about how the Clan would react. Strangely, she'd received a delivery of flowers with a note attached the very day it was finalized.

" _You remain a part of the clan. - Uchiha Madara"_

To this day she was unsure if he'd meant to convey it as a threat or a reassurance.

She was left with a stirring of uncertainty, however, and set them aside. They lasted a long time, without water or sunlight. They had dried in perfect formation, too.

It was with deliberate effort that Sakura had avoided him since her divorce.

Yet all through the evening at the cocktail party, she had felt him hovering nearby. Never close enough for her to catch him watching her, but her senses had never failed her and she knew it was him following her. She'd chosen her balcony with care and texted Sasuke constantly for updates on his progress, tried to look busy so no one would bother her. It wouldn't do to leave before Sasuke arrived. They both tried to keep up appearances about remaining on amiable terms.

Yet as she rubbed her arms and made her way towards the door back to the rest of the party, she felt the hair on the back of her neck and arms rise in warning.

She reached for the door and found it locked. On the other side of the glass, the curtains on were pulled shut, shielding her presence from the rest of the party inside.

"Good evening, Ms Uchiha," came his voice from behind her.

Sakura's teeth clenched as her stomach curled tighter.

"It's a lovely evening," he continued, taking a step further.

Sakura watched the faint reflection of his shadow on the window grow bigger as he drew closer.

"I found it a bit cold. I'm heading back inside. Would you mind unlocking the door?"

The door, she didn't doubt, that he had locked behind him, silently, while he stalked her all evening.

He stopped immediately behind her, so close she could feel his warmth spreading across her back and shoulders, seeping through the delicate material of her dress.

There was a brief rustle of fabric before she felt the lightest trail of his fingers across the back of her neck, gathering her loosely curled hair up and away, then the heavy weight of a his tailored wool suit jacket wrapping around her shoulders.

Her breath caught at the confidence of his gesture, the possessive entitlement to touch her so intimately. Around her his scent engulfed her in a gentle wave of spiced autumn mist, expensive cologne and that faint wood ash that permeated the Uchiha clan's finer specimens.

She pulled away from him, to the side, yet he hadn't released her hair.

She glared at him, then took a breath before ordering him.

"Let go."

His fingers tightened their grip, but Sakura only straightened her shoulders.

"Unlock the door," she demanded, holding her ground.

"Do you speak to your husband in that tone?" he asked evenly.

"You know very well we divorced last year. I am due home shortly. I need to see to my daughter," said Sakura, holding his gaze.

Madara's dark eyes trailed the expressive lines of her face, as if she were a marble statue carved by one of the greatest classical artists.

"Your daughter is safe," he replied quietly. "There is no rush."

Something about his words, however left Sakura feeling quite the opposite.

Shrouded by the coat that dwarfed her form, she reached her hand slowly into her purse and withdrew her phone. With deft fingers she keyed in her ex-husband's number and dialled, waiting a half second before she felt the buzz of the call going through.

"What do you want from me, Madara?"

He regarded her, taking in the hair he still held in his grip, though more loosely now that she wasn't struggling against him, down her silky brows to her pert nose and full lips. He paused there, studying them, before taking her in in his oversized coat and silky slip-style dress and strappy heels.

"It's not wanting a something," he said lifting his head again to meet her gaze. He spoke his words in his low, velvet voice. The inflection particular to the Uchiha leant an enticing lilt to his speech, enchanting her momentarily.

The spell broke when Sakura's shoulders tensed as he took a half-step closer.

"Then we're at an impasse," said Sakura. She would not be cowed by this man. The clan may bow to him, but she would not.

"No wonder he guarded you so jealously. You are a stubborn, wild thing," he murmured.

Then his fingers curled in her hair and stroked the back of Sakura's neck. Over the delicate knobs of her upper spine to her hairline and back down again, almost to her shoulder blades, his hands were so large and fingers so long.

The sensuous gesture repeated, and was subtly followed by a thrill of shivers she failed to suppress. Her slightest movement released more of his scent from his borrowed coat, enveloping her and muddling her thoughts, leaving her only her feelings.

His low chuckle rumbled between their bodies, vibrations more sensed than heard.

He did it a third time, his eyes darkening as he studied her reaction carefully.

The breath rushed from Sakura's lungs as her eyes widened, breathing hard through her nose as she instinctively backed away from him. Damning his hand in her hair, though, she found herself further trapped as he smirked and lifted his other hand to caress the soft skin of her cheek.

"Easy, my wildling," he whispered, stepping closer. His firm chest pressed into hers like a ghost, just enough to send a wave of unsettling sensation down through her body.

"Keep your hands to yourself and open the door," she snapped, anger strengthening her voice and warming her arms and arming her tight fists.

"Hn, but we've barely begun our conversation. You are so rarely present at clan gatherings anymore. This is our first chance to catch up," he said. His fingertips stroked her warming cheek as he pressed himself closer still, aligning their bodies and stepping a powerful leg between her knees. He, backed her against the cool glass of the balcony door.

"Do you miss the Uchiha, Sakura?" he asked.

The way he spoke her name, like it was the smoothest of wines, the most tempting of enchantments or curses, as if he didn't want to let the single word leave his lips and be free or separate from his being, coiled something tight, primal and feminine inside Sakura. She cursed herself for reacting in any way to it.

Swallowing, she forced herself to stand tall. Inadvertently the gesture left her more exposed, the oversized coat spreading to reveal a slice of her décolletage and the tailor-fitted dress, the contrast of dark silk and creamy skin drawing Madara's sloe gaze and male appreciation in an instant.

"Not for all the money in the world," said Sakura.

"Perhaps," breathed Madara, leaning closer until his lips breathed softly over her cheek, her ear, her throat. He paused, waiting for something only he knew before he continued on.

"... You need something more memorable to look back on…"

Then soft as a flower petal warm from the sun, he pressed his lips to her throat and trailed them upward, angling her head with his fist in her hair until he kissed her earlobe.

Sakura fought herself but it was too late, the gasp escaped her lips in a soft sigh as he pressed himself closer. Her arms were trapped between their bodies, hidden inside the folds of his coat as he dominated her.

Arousal and fear blossomed through Sakura at his daring seduction, so close to the rest of the clan yet hidden from their immediate view. Adrenaline began pumping through her veins, racing along with the mad beating of her heart. Inside her, anger warred with disgust and longing, both for the man taking from her as for herself, confused as to whether to continue fighting him or simply surrender to what his sinful touch evoked within her.

"... or forward to," he whispered naughtily, releasing her hair after a final squeeze and drawing away from her.

This. This was why he frightened and allured her.

This complete abandonment of her self-control which sent her senses careening whenever she was in his presence.

Unconsciously Sakura moved with him, her lips open as she lifted her chin and followed his retreat.

The darkness of his eyes consumed her as their eyes met once more. Feeling the magnetic draw of his power, her heart skipped a beat.

Then she felt the tap against the glass at her back, startled, and spun around.

Sasuke stood there, glaring at both of them, the curtains pulled back from the inside. In his hand he held his phone.

That was when Sakura realized she still held her own phone in her sweat-dampened palms.

The call was still active.

"Unlock the door," repeated Sakura, clearing her throat.

"It's open," said Madara.

Brows furrowing, Sakura reached behind her and found that yes, it was. The bastard had done it while she was… distracted.

"Let go of…"

Madara arched a brow, and Sakura lifted a hand to her hair. She was free.

Across from her, Madara folded his arms across his chest.

Embarrassed, angry heat burned Sakura's cheeks as she turned on her heel, yanking open the door and stalking away from Madara.

"Sakura?" called Madara, too calm and even to be anything but a trap.

"I'm leaving," she snapped, not turning around.

"Then I won't keep you. I will speak to you again soon, pet," he promised.

Sakura was so far ahead she missed the hard look Sasuke gave Madara before he, too, turned and walked away. He followed Sakura to the elevators, standing beside her while she tapped her foot and jabbed at the buttons in frustration.

"What was that about?" he finally asked when the elevator began its slow ascent to their floor.

"Hell if I know," muttered Sakura, lips pressed into a hard line.

"Sakura."

"What?"

He was silent so long she eventually sighed and looked at him, her eyes wide with hurt and confusion.

He offered her his hand.

When she reached to take his, he scoffed.

"His coat. You're still wearing it. Do you want to give him a reason to go... find you," he said.

Cursing herself again for becoming so thoughtless when she was around Uchiha Madara, she looked down and realized he was right.

The door dinged open behind her and she looked between it and Sasuke's outstretched hand. The moment stretched and she didn't know why she hesitated.

She shook her head, shrugging off the coat and shoving it at Sasuke.

"Thank you," she mumbled, striding to the elevator.

"Hn," was all he replied, watching her go.

She reached the elevator and hopped inside just as the doors closed. Turning to face the doors, she saw Sasuke watching her carefully.

"Thank you," she said more genuinely, her shoulders relaxing, finally, for the first time that evening.

He nodded with the briefest tilt of his narrow chin.

With a ding the doors closed completely and Sakura let out a heavy breath of relief. In the privacy of the elevator cabin, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

… but when she inhaled, all she could smell was Madara's scent all over her skin.

**TBC**


	2. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He travels in mysterious ways

He'd never been one to mince his words or play for tact, and Sasuke let his fury leak from him as he stalked back into the main room of Uchiha gathered for the celebration. His footsteps were measured and deliberate, his fingers clenching around the expensive cloth of Madara's jacket, wrinkling under the pressure.

He'd warned him.

He'd been warned, himself.

But there was no way he was letting this go. Not this time.

He found Madara by the bar, his usual entourage of sycophants parting as Sasuke broke through them and whipped the coat at his face.

Madara caught it with a snap of efficient movement, his expression calm and aloof.

Limbs shaking, Sasuke barely held himself back from punching him.

"No," said Sasuke clearly, voice deep as a fathomless ocean, currents running strong and dangerous beneath its surface.

The hand clutching the jacket slowly lowering, Madara watched Sasuke as a hunter observes his prey.

"You're back. A bit late," remarked Madara, leaning against the bar.

"She isn't Clan," said Sasuke.

Madara smirked.

"She was born to be Clan. More than Clan," said Madara, his inky eyes taking in every shift and twitch in his younger relation's menacing body language.

"She. Isn't. Clan," repeated Sasuke. "Stay away from her, Madara."

That had Madara leaning forward, chuckling, before he sipped from his tumbler of perfectly aged Glenfiddich.

"Do you think you have any authority, Sasuke? Over me?" he asked, leaning into Sasuke's personal space, over his bow-taut shoulder to whisper in his ear.

"Do you think you have any right over her, anymore? Are you worried, young one? Or jealous?"

Sasuke refused to be cowed.

"You'll humiliate not just yourself but the Clan if you pursue her. And she wants nothing to do with you," said Sasuke, fists clenching at his sides. "She wants nothing to do with us."

"And yet, she's ripe... for the plucking," said Madara just loud enough for Sasuke to hear the naked hunger in his voice. "One I can't wait to taste—"

Sasuke's fist connected with Madara but only the hand that Madara snapped up with which to catch him. Glancing down, Sasuke saw Madara had transferred his coat to hang over his other elbow.

Sasuke hadn't even seen him move.

Chuckling, Madara held on to Sasuke's hand a moment longer than necessary to make sure his meaning was heard loud and clear, putting his lips to Sasuke's ear.

"That good, is she? Hn." Madara chuckled. "I can't wait."

He released Sasuke a half second later, holding the younger man's gaze before picking up his tumbler again and lifting it up to hail Sasuke.

"And congratulations again on your divorce."

Madara smirked.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Sasuke's elbow to grab him and halt his progression towards Madara.

"Come," murmured Itachi, pulling Sasuke back. "Sasuke."

Shaking off his brother's arms, Sasuke straightened his own coat and glared at Madara before stalking off.

"I appreciate you moving your things out of my way."

Madara's voice carried over the chatter of the guests and unable to help himself, Sasuke felt his shoulders tense all over again.

* * *

It was a mercifully quiet week following the celebration at the Uchiha stronghold, though Sakura's uneasiness never released its hold on her. In fact, it grew, little by little, with every hour that passed.

The day immediately following, Sunday, was too calm. Sakura sent her dress to be dry-cleaned, helped Sarada with her homework, shopped for the coming week and cleaned their small home. In the back of her mind, a niggling thought slipped constantly out of her grasp when she reached for it, but she let it be. Anything important she always set reminders for, or it would come to light in time.

Her sleep that night was fitful, frequently disturbed. She woke more than once with a fierce, aching longing weighing her down, her chest heavy with hopelessness and yearning.

And need.

Rubbing her tired, red eyes, Sakura tried—once more—to sleep.

The second day, Monday, returned them both to their usual routine. School for Sarada, and back to the hospital to work for Sakura. She felt a little worse for wear due to her poor sleep the night before but was determined to make it through her day. The gossip would be horrendous, otherwise.

There was some small fanfare and good-natured teasing from her colleagues at work about the photos the local newspaper published about the celebration, but nothing overly invasive. On her way to a lunch meeting, Sakura overheard several rude comments from her subordinates when they thought she was out of earshot—mostly about how she thought she was 'too good' to be around the rest of them—but ignored the jealousy underlining their tones. She had worked hard to get to her position and was not ashamed of it. The talk would die down again, it always did. Reacting to it would only feed the attention-hungry wolves.

Regardless, it was a long day and she was ready to step away from it when the clock read five thirty. When she arrived home that night she was relieved to find Sarada already finished her homework and boiling water on the stove for noodles. Sakura smiled, kissed Sarada's forehead, and asked her to pull out the vegetables. Supper was light that evening and enjoyable to the pair as they caught up on their day.

It was Sakura's favourite part of her day, spending time with Sarada as she prattled on about Boruto and Himawari, and her various friends at school. The stress from Sakura's shoulders melted away as she listened. They tidied up together, and before long it was time for bed.

Or, it should have been.

Even as she drifted off to a troubled sleep that night, however, Sakura's thoughts were confused and misshapen, unfocused. In contrast to the night before, however, when she woke sporadically through Monday night she found her body betraying her with needs she hadn't felt since her honeymoon with her ex-husband, years before.

"This is not what my mid-thirties are supposed to be like," she grumbled to herself as she drank a nice—ice cold—glass of water in the dimly lit kitchen. She braced herself against the counter, exhausted.

She would admit that her arousal and awareness of it had been rising in recent years, but this was ridiculous. And the dreams! The details eluded her but the feelings did not. The physical feelings.

She could have sworn that, at times, it had felt like someone had been worshiping her in ways she'd only dreamed of.

It had just felt so…

She sighed, shaking her head.

Her glass landed with a small ching against the stainless steel sink. The clock read four forty five.

She still had another hour to go.

Trudging back to her room, Sakura decided to at least attempt a bit more sleep. Perhaps she just needed to get the dreams out of her system.

It was not to be.

By the third day Sakura's sleep deprivation and tense, snappish responses began to affect her. Her head felt full of a pounding pressure, while at the same time stuffed with cotton batting. She could barely focus. She missed cues she should have anticipated at work and barely made it to the end of her day. She drank more coffee than she should have, and while her awareness spiked, so did her irritation and quickness to temper.

When she got home that night Sarada called her out on her short fuse, Sakura felt herself struggling to leash her immediate reaction to snap back at her. She caught sight of the concern in her daughter's dark eyes, though, and quelled the irritation that crawled up and down her skin at having her daughter question her. Everything felt like a criticism and Sakura knew she needed to get a handle on her emotions.

When Sarada went to bed that night, Sakura opened a seldom-visited cupboard, the medicine cabinet in her bathroom.

She examined the carton that had sat on the same shelf for the last year.

During the divorce she had suffered from stress and sleepless nights, relying occasionally on the sleep-aid she kept in her medicine cabinet.

While she had promised herself she wouldn't rely on them recreationally, she knew she needed a decent night's sleep before she ended up losing her temper on someone who didn't deserve it. Sarada was at the top of her list.

Swallowing down the pair of pills with her water, Sakura snuggled down under her covers and continued her meditative exercises, determined to enjoy a decent night's rest.

It was the tipping point to her downfall.

Her body, having no way to wake her and protect her from her dreams any longer with the chemical cocktail coursing through her, fell prey to the one who had been so determined in his attacks.

Miles away in, from the privacy of his bedroom in his forest-hidden mansion, one man's inky eyes closed as he inhaled deeply in his naked chest and focused on his doe.

Madara smirked in the darkness.

It was time to hunt.

* * *

Sakura tensed as she looked around her. The wind ruffled her loose hair and brought with it the scent of magnolias and honey. The darkness was lit by traditional lanterns hung at distant intervals along the garden pathway. The trees rustled with the breeze while the cries and movement of nocturnal animals filtered through the darkness to reach her ears.

She had never seen this garden before, yet it felt eerily familiar.

"Welcome."

The irritation dogging her the last several days spiked in recognition of that voice.

She turned slowly and glared at her host.

"What is going on?" she demanded.

Not trusting the man before her, unsure if she was awake or asleep, Sakura braced herself and widened her stance. He would not attack her, but she also would not leave herself vulnerable to him.

Madara appraised her appearance from head to toe, focusing on a point just below her right ear; which was when Sakura looked down to find herself dressed in the same charcoal silk sheath she'd worn to the party the weekend before.

Her eyes narrowed further and she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. Instead, she raised her chin and straightened her shoulders.

"I didn't get a chance to compliment you on your choice of attire. You look… ravishing," he said. His voice was low and velvet soft, tempting her with his hypnotic tones.

She swallowed as her body reacted to it, shivering delightfully in spite of herself.

"What's going on? This doesn't feel real," she said, looking around. There was now a fountain bubbling in the garden, illuminated from below the waterline.

It hadn't been there a moment ago.

Across from her, Madara chuckled.

"So suspicious," he said, tutting and shaking his head.

"Sasuke said to stay away from you. He always let me make my own decisions, but he was clear about that," said Sakura.

Madara stepped forward and she raised her fists.

He lifted his hands palm-up in a peaceful gesture.

"I mean you no harm."

Sakura shook her head. She had never trusted this man.

"You mean every harm. You don't know how to survive without it being at the expense of someone else. Stay away from me. And my daughter. We aren't part of your Clan," said Sakura, following his movements with her attentive eyes.

"Ah, but you see, she is… and under Clan law, she is to be mentored by a member of the Uchiha at all times to ensure she learns the proper decorum and etiquette as befits a true Uchiha. She is of the main line, after all." He cocked his head, continuing to circle Sakura. "How is dear Sarada?"

"Fantastic since I separated us from your influence."

Madara chuckled again.

"Ah, you are so antagonistic to me in our little tête-à-tête," he said appreciatively. "How are you, then, Sakura?"

"I don't want any of this… wherever this is," said Sakura.

Confusion clouded her thinking. If this was a dream, why could she not control it? Why could she not change it?

She pinched herself surreptitiously to no avail.

Why could she not wake…

—She wanted to curse herself.

_The sleep aid._

She looked at Madara, then.

It almost felt like he had manipulated her into this, she thought to herself. He was sin incarnate, standing there in his casual shirt and trousers. Deceptively casual, and devastatingly good looking.

True, he was handsome; too handsome. Unearthly handsome, bordering on ethereal. More successful than he had any right to be, and…

Warmth spread through her, pooling and rising from her middle to spread outward through her body. Her skin prickled with awareness and she found herself swallowing to clear her throat.

And she reacted to him in ways she hadn't thought… not impossible… but…

She reacted to him unnaturally; unnaturally _interested_.

She sighed and surrendered to her realization that she was aroused simply being in his presence.

She was, in fact, fighting the latent urge that drew her towards him.

However she wasn't sure if he was truly the one doing it, or if it was generating from inside her core.

She thought back to the stories Sasuke had told her, about the fabled origins of his precious Clan, and met Madara's heady gaze once more.

Would he answer her here, in this shared, private place?

"You're a demon, aren't you?"

He smirked at her again and she felt weak in the knees.

"You're getting closer," he admitted, cocking his head to the side as he finished circling her. He paused to stand before her, arms crossed and feet spread wide.

She couldn't help but notice he was aroused, too, the bulge insistent against his loose, dark trousers.

Her mouth watered. What was wrong with her?

"What are you?"

She shivered under his gaze, his attention caressing her as if by his own hand. Unbidden Sakura swallowed a gasp and felt her nipples pressing against the silky material of her gown, her thighs rubbing together restlessly.

_My gaze was probably just as hungry as his at this point,_ she guessed, embarrassed.

But like a match that had been struck, she was lit and burning hotter by the second. The sexual appetite she had disregarded for too long inside her was whet by the man in front of her. Her breathing was coming faster, more insistently, with every rise and fall of her chest. Even her breasts began to feel swollen, her need to cup them and sate the urge to be touched, fondled and worshiped.

"What's happening?" she whispered, begged him.

"The Call," he replied. His voice had lowered and become thicker, heavier, reaching out to her ears to fill her and draw her closer like a siren song.

He stepped closer, the heat emanating from his bare chest—where had his shirt gone? It didn't matter—nearly scalding Sakura as she reached out to run her fingers down the sculpted muscles of his abdomen to the promising treasure trail that peeked out of his waistband.

She closed her eyes as his lips trailed butterfly kisses down her temple and cheeks, his hands reaching to stroke the soft skin of her bare shoulders.

Her dress was gone now, vanished into the ether as their bodies pressed together. He pulsed against her belly and she sighed, rubbing against him in encouragement.

He groaned low in his throat.

"You didn't answer me," she breathed, kissing along his collarbone.

"Hn. I did," he said.

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer until there was nothing between them. He seemed quite content to hold her to him for a moment, their hearts beating hard in tandem as he breathed in her scent to hold it inside him.

"No. What are you, Madara?" she asked again. Her voice wavered as his hands slid lower, lower, until they cupped her backside and slid lower still, beneath her thighs to grab her leg and wrap it around his waist, exposing her intimately to him to press into, to cradle himself in her tender warmth.

" _Yes,"_ she thought she heard him say when the moist warmth rushed from her to greet his imminent joining.

Refusing to suffer alone, Sakura undulated her hips to relieve the pressure building at the apex of her thighs; and felt Madara shuddering against her in reaction.

His grip on her leg and hip tightened, and he ground into her, his breathing harsh and guttural as he pressed his head to her throat tightly.

"May I?" he groaned, rocking his hips into hers.

It was a dream, she knew it was a dream, but Sakura hesitated for a split-second.

"We don't have protection—"

"You don't need it," he breathed, cutting her off and kissing and sucking on her throat until Sakura's emotions sang and her eyes rolled back in their sockets. Madara was paying homage to her body, worshiping her fervently like her most devout disciple, and he hadn't even touched her breasts yet.

She swallowed as he brought his mouth up and looked at her a moment, his eyes heavy and dark with desire.

She felt her resolve shaking as his gaze softened to something more tender, the hunger still present, yet leashed.

"I want to," he murmured, his lips closing in on hers. "With you, Sakura," he whispered.

With that he pressed the softest kiss imaginable to her lips, sealing their bodies and souls together. The garden around them disappeared as his soft skin moved against hers, coaxing her participation, her enthusiasm, her passion from her kiss by kiss as the excitement sparked, ignited, exploded between them. No longer were they two separate people, but a single existence that shared its emotions and arousal, constantly climbing to provide more passion as its fuel.

Sakura's heart swam with powerful emotions, with how right it all felt, with want and need and desire as the whirlpool sucking her along for the passionate ride pulled her under the surface, leaving her gasping for breath.

"Yes," she whimpered as he finally let her up for air.

The single word had barely passed her lips before she felt him lower her to the pillow-soft mattress that appeared and kiss her fiercely, a low, possessive growl passing from his chest to hers.

It sounded like, " _Mine."_

He spread her deliciously wide.

Wide enough to cradle him between her thighs, wide enough to splay herself open to him, wide enough for him to slide home inside her plush, tight, welcoming channel and take him in deep with a gasp as he filled her and filled her and kept filling her until she thought she couldn't stretch any further.

Her gasp was muffled as he drank in her reaction, his grip leaving bruised crescents in her creamy flesh.

For her part, Sakura felt tears spring to her eyes. She had never felt anything so complete and right before in her life, and satisfaction rolled through her in waves.

She hadn't even orgasmed yet and she was both desperate and terrified of what more was to come.

Her fingers wrapped in Madara's hair to tug him closer and she sighed against his lips, kissing him deeply.

To her surprise, his shoulders relaxed under her delightful ministrations and he returned the kiss, adding a playful element before pressing her down fully with his desire.

Rolling to meet his thrusts, Sakura sighed and wrapped her legs behind his back, smiling up at him.

He drew back just enough to watch her, his gaze holding hers.

And when he set a slow, torturous rhythm, he smirked when her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open in a silent 'o'.

Finding a pace that he could build on, Madara looked down at Sakura's naked breasts, moving hypnotically in time with his thrusts and thought it was high time they received his illustrious attention.

With a breathy moan, Sakura's head fell back against the silky sheets as Madara strummed her nipples to play her erotic music.

"Yes," she repeated wantonly, her grip in his hair tightening. "Yes!"

Her breath caught when he adjusted his angle and brought a hand between them to address her burgeoning need.

He set her off in seconds. She reached her peak in record time, surrendering herself to it completely and giving over to the pleasure Madara wrought in her mercilessly.

Over and over he surged and brought her to the brink before cascading over the edge, buried deep inside her.

Sakura's voice was hoarse by the time she felt his rhythm faltering, his trembling turn to shaking and his breathing panting hard.

Lifting a limp, satisfied hand to his cheek, she smiled tiredly at him.

"You may," she said simply, giving him permission.

His breath caught in his throat as he grasped her hand and leaned over her. He wove their fingers together, planting her hand in the sheets by her sex-mussed hair, and maintained eye contact through the kiss her branded her with next.

Then his pace changed entirely to something primal, animalistic and possessive.

"You're mine," he said, his eyes taking on a faint crimson hue.

She smiled at him and hmmm'd in agreement.

"Say it," he demanded, pounding into her. His hair was a wild tangle around him, haloing him in darkness and shrouding them in a private cocoon. "Say it now."

"Hmm?" Lost in the haze of pleasure and satisfaction, Sakura's thoughts had turned to unfocused mush once more. For once, however, she wasn't disturbed by it. She was too enthralled by the ecstasy still coursing through her veins.

Why had she denied this for so long? She should have accepted his invitations ages ago…

"Say you're mine," he growled. He took her other hand in his and lifted both above her head, stretching her body taut and forcing Sakura to bend and lift her hips to meet his.

The stretch felt amazing and she moaned in pleasure.

"Say it!"

His body bowed and tensed. Sakura shook herself mentally to collect her thoughts as her final orgasm crested, the warmth rising to the boiling point inside her. This one would be the last one of the night, she knew it, and it had built like a volcano about to erupt. She would absolutely burst with it.

"I'm yours!" She consented on a passionate cry, her climax exploding as he drove into her like a demon possessing her.

He released his seed inside her with a fierce, triumphant curse, searing her and pumping her full of his life force until she absorbed every drop from the tip of him, sucking it from him greedily in her body's attempt to hold him inside her.

Sakura saw stars as her body shook, its ability to sustain such a raw level of passion for such an extended time worn and spent.

She finally drifted off to sleep as she felt a heavy, warm body crumple beside her, drawing her into his arms and wrapping them both up in blankets that smelled of him.

A pleased sigh was the last thing she heard before darkness overtook her.

Well, a sigh, and once final time, his murmured mantra of, " _Mine."_

* * *

"—Mom? Mom, are you up yet?"

The knocking on her door became a heavy pounding.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

Mind fuzzy, Sakura rubbed at her bleary eyes and wondered why it was so light in her room.

"Mom? I'm coming in!"

The door opened, and Sakura winced as Sarada rushed into the room, her eyes wide and her lips tight with concern. She hurried to Sakura's side and wrapped her arms around her.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Yes, of course I am." Sakura returned her daughter's hug one-armed. With the other she patted around for her phone.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

"It's almost nine. You slept in," said Sarada, horrified. "I need to go to school. Do you need anything before I go?"

"Nine?!" gasped Sakura, shooting upright in bed. She looked at her phone. Sarada was right.

"You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to disturb you. But as long as you're okay, I'm going to go. I'll see you after school!" she called, releasing her mother and stepping back. She waved from the door of Sakura's bedroom. "Take the day off if you're still feeling tired!"

Sakura gaped after her daughter, even after she heard the front door slam shut.

She had slept in until nine in the morning?!

Yes, she realized, looking at her phone again with wide viridian eyes. She had.

She didn't remember the last time she'd slept in so late.

She felt…

Her brow furrowed.

Actually, she felt… incredible.

The tell-tale signs of hearty, orgasm-delivered satisfaction lingered around her body in pleasant tingles. For a second, a rare moment of self-indulgence, she closed her eyes and fell back onto the bed again with a content sigh.

_Wow._

She was definitely taking a dose of that sleep aid again in the future the next time she felt… pent up.

With a small smile to herself, Sakura lifted her phone and sent a quick text to her colleagues that she would be in a bit late that morning. It was better not to worry them further.

In the meantime she lay back and took a few deep, cleansing breaths before sliding her feet off the side of the bed and climbing free of her tangled bedsheets.

A flash of memory had her biting her lip as she leaned over the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth.

She felt amazing. She didn't care that it was a dream,or what the dream had been about. It was exactly what she'd been needing to clear her stress.

She turned on the shower and stripped off her pyjamas only to pause. Her wrists were bruised.

Had she… bumped into something the night before?

The crescent-shaped bruises on her hips, however, were harder to explain.

As was the love-bite on her right breast.

And when she felt the warm, sticky trickle of what felt distressingly like semen leak down her thigh, she began to tremble.

It had been a dream, though.

_Hadn't it?_

She showered with meticulous care, scrubbing down every inch before the panic took full hold of her. Mind a mess of emotions and suspicion, she climbed out and texted her coworkers again that she would in fact not be in that day. Her first destination for the day would be the pharmacy. And after that… well….

What had happened the night before?

She needed answers.

She had barely hit send when there came a knock at her front door.

Sakura swallowed, her fear combining with her temper to form a volatile cocktail.

She opened the door wearing her bathrobe and glared at the black-suited men assembled there, Madara front and center.

"What the Hell is going on?" demanded Sakura.

And she was not going to let things repeat from the night before. She wanted answers, now.

"Slept well, I see," said Madara with a faint smirk.

"What did you do to me?" she demanded as he strode past her into her home. Uninvited, not that courtesy had ever been a priority of his when it came to getting what he wanted.

His men stayed outside.

Sakura slammed the door shut to prevent them from entering. One Uchiha was more than enough, especially when that Uchiha was Uchiha Madara, Clan Head.

"You were in my dream. You… manipulated me," she said, frustration and embarrassment closing her throat on the last words.

"I believe the words you're looking for are, 'sated you beyond your wildest dreams' and 'thank you, Madara'," he said, removing his shoes.

He set them neatly on the shoe rack. Exactly where Sasuke used to put his.

Sakura got a very bad feeling at how easily he made himself at home in her home. As if it was his own. As if he was part of it, part of her life.

He stood and faced her, watching her for a moment, considering her. Then he advanced on her, backing her up against the wall and caging her in by pressing his hands to either side of her head.

Sakura swallowed but stood tall.

"Would you like to do it all again?" he asked, his voice low and enticing. His lips brushed her ear, sending shivers down her shoulder blades. "I want to wrap your legs around my shoulders this time, your thighs against my cheeks and your fingers in my hair as you drag my face down to lick your delicious—"

Sakura shoved him away, face burning.

"That isn't funny! Why is this happening? What did you do?" she asked, furious. "This morning I woke up and…" She swallowed. "Were you here? In my home?"

Madara watched her, calm, composed and... hungry.

Between her anger—at him for playing with and manipulating her, somehow, and at herself for not understanding and feeling tricked by the likes of his manipulation—Sakura's chest heaved with her rapid breaths.

Madara's nostrils flared as he breathed her in. In a flash, the lust from the night before triggered his dark eyes and they glinted crimson as they devoured her whole.

"Last night I marked you as Mine, and you accepted," he said.

The tension in his words belied his condition. He was aroused and predatory once more. The heat emanating off his broader body, trapping her against the wall, both ensnared her and tempted her. The scent of his cologne and natural musk made her bite her lip in want to stifle her sigh.

Like the night before in her dream, he was completely drowning her senses.

Something feral in Sakura recognized it but she refused to be bow down to his conceit and arrogance. She lifted her chin.

"What does that mean?" she demanded.

Madara's gaze flickered to her bite-swollen lips before meeting her gaze again. He didn't need to take a step closer to invade her personal space; already he overwhelmed her. Against her stomach she could feel the hint of his swell of arousal as it pulsed, the way her core pulsed and ached for him, her blood flowing south to eagerly prepare her for him again.

As if he knew what her body was doing to her, Madara smirked.

"It means I took you for my own."

Sakura shook her head.

"How?"

Then part of her dream resurfaced. She tilted her head as she narrowed her eyes.

"You said you weren't a… demon… What are you?"

The hand to her left that had been caging her in shifted, tucking a loose lock of damp hair behind Sakura's ear. To her surprise, Madara's expression softened, as her body softened, and he closed the distance between them.

She was mortified to find her body responding to him further, welcoming him and cradling his as he connected their bodies together from chest to thigh. Already she could feel his readiness nudging her belly, hot and hard even through their clothes.

Her mouth watered.

Madara rested his chin atop her head when she relaxed into his body and he cuddled her there a moment before angling back to meet her gaze.

"Not a demon," he agreed in a reassuring tone.

Sakura's breath caught.

"An incubus. God of the Incubi, actually," he said.

Sakura's eyes flew open. He had to be joking—

"As I recognized long, long ago, you are my Mate. Sasuke was nearly banished from the Clan for his insubordination." He sounded incredibly content in spite of the way Sakura suddenly tensed in his arms. "But that obstacle was… removed."

He reached down to stroke Sakura's hair and kiss her temple lovingly.

"And after last night, you are carrying my cambion."

Sakura's heart stopped.

**(TBC?)**


	3. Her Words Entice You Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appearances can be deceiving.

Itachi’s eyes narrowed. He pulled his BMW into Sakura’s driveway, recognizing the dark SUVs parked in a line along the curb up and down her street. He sent a quick text before exiting the car, nodding to the family members he passed. Everyone wore similar tailored dark suits, sunglasses, uchiwa pins with double-lines through the middle of their centers neatly positioned on their lapels. These were Madara’s personally loyal servants.

As Itachi approached the front door, he heard feminine shouting, then a sudden impact and crash. His speed picked up as he ran inside, ignoring the way the other Uchiha remained in place, patiently waiting for their orders.

“—said get out!” Sakura screamed.

“And I made it clear that this is a waste of time,” countered Madara with a patronizing sigh. “This isn’t good for you in your delicate condition.”

“I’ll give you a ‘delicate condition’—”

Itachi’s heart pounded as he understood what had happened. He stopped very suddenly as he came upon Sakura and Madara in her living room. The couch cushions littered the ground, as did the dirt, leaves and roots of several (formerly) potted plants. Shards of ceramic and terracotta pots were strewn about at the foot of the wall close to where Madara stood. The dirt had rebounded onto his neat suit, staining it. Sakura’s bathrobe was loose and dishevelled, stained down the front from the spilled dirt, too.

Through the chaos of the room, for papers had obviously been thrown about in a flurry when they’d been knocked off their tables and Itachi saw several smaller pieces of furniture upended, Itachi realized something important.

Madara had not yet sealed the deal if Sakura was still fighting so hard to avoid him.

It gave Itachi hope that there was still a chance Sakura could be saved. When he glanced at his Clan Head, however, he knew they were all in for an uphill, merciless battle.

“Sakura,” said Itachi, stepping forward. He positioned himself carefully between her and Madra. “Are you injured?”

“You made it, thank you.” Sakura’s gasp was shaky with relief. 

Amidst the rubble of the bombed room, Sakura’s shoulders relaxed minutely as Itachi moved closer to her, his placid countenance calming her. He nodded to her, careful not to touch her when she was so worked up. It was too dangerous for them to risk complications. He lifted his brows as he looked her over. 

“I’m…” Sakura’s voice trailed off as she narrowed her eyes on Madara once more. “What did you do? Is it real?”

“As real as anything else in the world,” said Madara. His dark eyes focused on Itachi, calculating. “Hn.”

When Itachi had answered Sakura’s call, he had understood the danger he was taking on. He refused to be cowed by Madara’s influence and lethal aura, and moved closer to Sakura, standing directly in front of her and facing down his uncle. He was not afraid of the Head of the Uchiha clan. Long ago he’d anticipated this time would come.

“Sakura, have you had sexual intercourse with Madara since you’ve been awake?” asked Itachi, glancing over his shoulder at Sakura but preventing Madara from fully seeing her anymore.

Her emerald eyes hardening, Sakura shook her head once. “No.”

_ Thank the gods _ , thought Itachi.

“Then you have no need for concern,” said Itachi, his calm tone gentle and compassionate. He spotted a bruise darkening on her arm, another near her cheek. Heat began to build in his veins as he felt his anger and disgust spike. “Please give me a moment to speak to Madara.” His eyes flicked to Madara and narrowed. “Alone.”

“I can handle him myself,” snapped Sakura.

“Please don’t worry Sarada by having her come home to a mother covered in bruises,” said Itachi plainly. 

Sakura froze, a hand halfway to her cheek. She swallowed before her hands fisted at her sides.

“Get out of my house,” she snarled at Madara. Though she did glance at Itachi before turning towards her bathroom. “And stay away from me and Sarada.”

The door closed behind Sakura, leaving the two Uchiha staring at each other in her living room.

It was quiet but for the sound of water running in the bathroom, and Itachi felt his chest rise and fall with the genuine anger that suffused him. In spite of how much he longed to strike his Clan Head, he waited, his shoulders straight and tall. It would not do to act more impulsively than he already had.

“She asked you to leave,” he said quietly, glaring at Madara.

“She asked you to come,” replied Madara thoughtfully. 

The nerves in Itachi’s back prickled as his muscles tightened in warning. Across the room, Madara lifted his chin and carefully watched Itachi.

“Tell me, nephew,” began Madara as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Were you able to refuse her?”

“She asked for help,” said Itachi.

To Itachi’s surprise and discomfort, Madara smirked.

“But would you have been able to,” repeated Madara.

Lips pressed together, Itachi refused to answer.

Madara’s smirk widened knowingly.

“Sasuke couldn’t,” goaded Madara, starting a slow walk around the room. His dark eyes landed on a familiar small fountain, untouched among the chaos, atop a driftwood table. “Sasuke has been banished from the family he loved and devoted himself to, in order to be with her.”

Still Itachi remained quiet, unsure where Madara was going with his insinuations. Madara was a master of manipulation, and yet he often spoke in enough half-truths to be genuine. It was partly what made him so effective and devastating when he went after what he wanted. Where was Madara leading him this time? 

Circling the room, Madara’s eyes paused on an impressive series of paintings on the wall. Different views and scenes of the ocean. Gentle waves, curling rifts, coiling whirlpools, crashing storms, underwater corals. Sakura had painted them, according to Sasuke, Itachi remembered. She had a mild obsession with the open water…

Suspicions formed in Itachi’s mind, as the situation began to make sense.

Oh, he was a fool for falling into the trap, too.

But he was there now, wasn’t he?

Madara came to a stop in front of a long painting that took up nearly half a wall. It was of the ocean, like the others, however this one included the coastline. Large, round boulders, worn smooth by the endless crashing of ocean waves, piled around a small lagoon. The brown and gray rocks looked almost soft, inviting. It was somehow a familiar scene to Itachi. He tried to place why.

“The clan summer villa,” said Madara, reading Itachi’s expression. “It was built on this land. Just past the rocks.”

Ignoring the condescending tone Madara used, Itachi realized Madara was correct. The lagoon looked slightly different from the painting. Had Sakura re-landscaped it to make the painting more appealing?

“This is what it used to look like,” said Madara, voice genuine for once. Almost haunted. “A hundred and fifty years ago.”

Itachi paused.   
  
The painting bore Sakura’s familiar signature in the corner.

But that couldn’t be. How would she…

Understanding struck Itachi hard and fast like a punch to the gut.

“She’s a siren,” he realized aloud.

Madara nodded.

“She’s been the one calling to us,” said Madara. “For taking her out of the water.”

Behind Itachi, the water in the bathroom turned off and Sakura stepped out. Her bruises had disappeared, and her eyes held an ethereal glow.

“Now, who’s the hunter and who’s the doe?” asked Sakura.

Her sharp teeth gleamed.

**THE END.**


End file.
